Enervation
by CyniMet
Summary: In which Orochimaru is a perfectionist and Sasuke is perfect.


He watches the boy carefully from across the street, a familiar feeling of anxiety bubbling in his stomach. It's always like this whenever he sees Sasuke—he can't bring himself to look away, but the longer he stares, the worse the feeling becomes. He wants him, wants to know what that pale skin feels like; how that feathered black hair feels running through his fingers. He wants that boy to turn his gunmetal grey eyes on him for the first time, to see what emotions would pass over his face, knowing he would love any—_every _single one the boy possessed.

But that has never happened; Sasuke does not notice him. And of course not, why would he? Orochimaru is only the wayward neighbor; an older man living a quiet life on a quiet street, whom Sasuke could have only seen on weekends when the man is tending his gardens in the front and backyard, or making his weekly grocery shopping on Sunday mornings. It's not as if he stands out, if anything, it is the boy's family who are out of place in this neighborhood – a family of four, with two teenage boys, who are wealthy even by these upper-middle class Suburban standards, surrounded by young families with small children and old retired couples.

What possessed the prestigious Fugaku Uchiha to bring his family to this sort of place, Orochimaru will never know. Perhaps it was Mikoto's idea; the woman had expressed (in their brief encounters over the past two years) a certain unease about living in their previous apartment in the heart of the city – convenient, but no place to raise two unruly boys.

And what an unruly boy he is, Orochimaru thinks, taking another sip of his ginseng tea on his porch swing. He watches the boy and his older brother as they continue working on their assigned chores, and he can tell Sasuke is less than thrilled at having to spend his Saturday afternoon painting a white picket fence instead of being with his friends. Orochimaru is both elated and disappointed at the change of pace; on one hand, this is the first time in quite a while he's had the pleasure of watching Sasuke for _hours_, moving around, working diligently, concentrated and focused and a little miffed but entirely captivating. On the other, this means no usual Saturday afternoon soccer game at the field with his friends, which Orochimaru usually does not attend for fear of being seen, but oh, how he loves watching the boy come home, face and arms gleaming with sweat, shiny black hair dishevelled, smears of dirt and grass stains on his face, legs and loose-fitting clothes. It does wonders to his imagination, seeing the boy like that, and he is loathed to miss it.

But he doesn't mind this time, though he wishes Itachi was not hovering over his brother so closely. To anyone else, it would seem the opposite – that Itachi is actually ignoring the boy quite thoroughly, but Orochimaru knows better. He sees the small glances Itachi sends his brother's way, the slight inclination of his head, checking up on him, seeing if he requires help or has given up yet. Orochimaru wonders if Itachi was a fussy and overprotective child before Sasuke grew old enough to push him away. He's glad the boy doesn't seem particularly clingy to his elder brother; after all, for a boy of sixteen, he is remarkably independent. That's one of Orochimaru's favorite things about him – as standoffish and aloof as the boy can be, Orochimaru knows there is a throbbing vulnerability beneath that icy exterior. He has yet to see it, but he knows it is there, he can tell by how guarded all of the boy's words and actions are. He assumes it comes from having an overbearing father and a prodigal older brother, but it does not matter to him much.

He goes to take another sip of his tea before he remembers that he finished it long ago. He glances at his watch and sees that he's been sitting outside for over 45 minutes, not surprised. Time always goes by fast when he's lost in thoughts of that boy. He decides to head inside and make another cup, opting to watch through the window from the kitchen table to ease any suspicion.

x

Orochimaru hates the blonde friend, more than he's hated many people in his life. He is the opposite of Sasuke in every way – loud, obnoxious, unintelligent, ungraceful filth, and Orochimaru truly cannot fathom why Sasuke tolerates his company. He could do so much better than that walking eyesore. He can only imagine what a respectable man like Fugaku has to say about his son's choice of friends.

Perhaps it is no more than simple jealously, he relents. Sasuke is not soft or affectionate with the boy in anyway, but it's clear that, for whatever reason, he has chosen him to be his closest companion, despite his severely lacking qualifications. What Orochimaru hates most about it, he realizes, is the way Sasuke says the boy's name – for some reason, it is spoken differently than anyone else's. _Naruto._ He says it slowly, in his wonderfully deep voice, clearly accentuating every syllable and rolling the _r_ just enough to be heard, even when it's coated in impatience and frustration, like just now.

Orochimaru watches the old, dirty soccer ball roll across the road between their houses and up onto his lawn. He can't bring himself to be impressed by the strength behind Naruto's kick, since the boy's atrocious aim caused the ball to divert from Sasuke who was only a mere 15 feet away from him. He takes a moment to finish the sip of tea he had started beforehand, then sets his cup down on the end table next to his swing. He begins to stand up, slowly, so focused on not rushing his pace that he appears like a feeble old man. He forces himself to move sluggishly so as to not make it obvious that the prospect of getting to hand Sasuke's ball back to him—to his _face_—excites him terribly.

He hears Sasuke quip a scathing remark at his friend, before he lightly jogs across the road to where the ball had ended up. Orochimaru gets there first, picks the ball up laboriously, feigning a poor physique to calm his nerves. Sasuke approaches, six steps away, four steps away—until he's _right there, _right in front of Orochimaru for the first time, looking at him for the first time, focused on him completely for the first time. The man has to fight with all of his willpower to keep his breathing steady and his expression composed. The boy is so beautiful; the closer he is, the more beautiful he is. He is perfect in every literal sense. Orochimaru stomps down on his rampant desire to lay his hands on the boy's face.

"Sorry about that," Sasuke says to him, dropping his previous hostile expression he'd directed at Naruto. He lifts his hands to take the ball, and Orochimaru's hands give it to him of their own accord.

"No trouble," Orochimaru responds, quietly, much more smoothly than anticipated. The tips of their fingers touch for a fraction of a second as the boy finds a grip on the ball. Orochimaru holds his breath.

"Thanks," Sasuke absently says as he's turning back towards his friend. Orochimaru mutters a "don't mention it," that he's sure Sasuke doesn't hear as he makes his way back to his porch. He sits down leisurely, picks up his tea, and decides then and there that Sasuke will be his, no matter the dire consequences.

x

It's a cool, rainy, late-autumn afternoon when his chance finally comes. He's had it planned for months, and at last, opportunity strikes. He watches from his kitchen window as Sasuke returns home from school to an empty house. Fugaku is at work, Itachi is at college, and Mikoto – well, he isn't sure, but wherever she is, he has enough time to go through with his plan before she returns. It will only take him five minutes.

He quickly pulls on his coat and exits the house, jogging across his yard and onto the road. Just as the boy is about to reach his porch, Orochimaru calls out to him.

"Excuse me, Sasuke-kun?"

The boy stops and turns to him, surprised. He looks at Orochimaru as if he's trying to remember who he is, and the man ignores his feelings of indignation.

"Yeah?" He asks, obviously confused. The man has never spoken to him like this, after all. Orochimaru forgives his wariness. He appreciates that his boy is aware enough to be cautious.

"Sorry to bother you," Orochimaru smiles, voice smooth like butter. "I was hoping I could take a moment of your time, if you aren't busy." He knows the boy isn't.

"What do you need?" Sasuke asks, a little suspicious, but mostly curious. Inwardly, Orochimaru smirks at the slip of the boy's mask.

"Well, you see, I need some help moving my bed. My watch fell off my bedside table and I'm afraid it's just too heavy for me to move on my own," he gestures to his upper body, as if to say, _see how old and weak I am?_ "If you could help me, I would be most grateful."

The boy looks mistrustful for a moment, then appears to relent. "I guess I could," he says, stepping closer towards Orochimaru, who is fighting wholeheartedly to keep his excited grin from showing. He turns and begins making his way back towards his house, focusing solely on the sound of Sasuke's footsteps behind him. He casts a quick look up and down the street, making sure no one has seen them, but it is dark and everyone has gone inside to escape the oncoming cold. There will be no witnesses.

He holds the front door open for Sasuke, who mutters a quick thanks as he steps inside. Orochimaru closes the door behind him and silently turns the lock as the boy takes off his shoes.

"My room is upstairs," he says, leading the boy to the staircase. Sasuke follows wordlessly, glancing around him at the very… _generic _interior of the house. It was so typically decorated. Everything, from the wallpaper to the WWII memorabilia, screamed _old man,_ which was a little odd, because Orochimaru really didn't look that old. It must be something in his genetics, the boy thought, because he looked like a 40-year-old and moved like an 80-year-old.

Orochimaru steps aside to let Sasuke enter the room first, and he can see the boy is a little impressed at the large, wooden bed frame. It's no wonder the man couldn't move it by himself. For a moment Sasuke doubts if they'll even be able to lift it together.

Nonetheless, they each get on one side of the bed and grab hold of the darkly colored wood, Orochimaru silently enjoying the sight of Sasuke bent forward to get a good grip. Without a word between them, they begin to pull the bed away from the wall, and Orochimaru is careful not pull too hard for fear of Sasuke finding out how easily he could have done this on his own.

When the bed is about a foot away from the wall, Sasuke lets go and Orochimaru immediately stops pulling. The boy checks behind the bed, then bends down to reach for the golden watch lying on the floor. Orochimaru watches dazedly as the boy's sweatshirt falls up his chest to reveal the small of his back.

Sasuke stands up straight, watch in hand, wondering how Orochimaru could afford something so fancy. Perhaps it was sentimental, he thought. It would explain why he wanted it back so badly.

Orochimaru smiles widely at him, then grabs his side of the bed again. Sasuke takes the hint and drops the watch on the bed, grabbing his side also. At the same time, they push the bed back into its original position, the carpet hindering them.

The older man stands up straight, pretends to stretch his sore back, then sighs. He walks around to Sasuke's side of the bed and bends down to grab his watch, beginning to put it back on. "Thank you so much, Sasuke-kun," he says, not looking at Sasuke, but seeing in his peripheral that the boy is glancing at the photographs around the room absently. "I don't know what I would have done without you,"

Sasuke seems to snap out of his curious daze then, and stuffs his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. "Don't mention it," he replies coolly. "So, if there's nothing else, then—"

"Oh, yes," Orochimaru smiles widely again, "Actually, there's just one more thing—"

The shock is almost endearing on Sasuke's face as he's _flung_ onto the massive bed by the front of his sweatshirt. The force of hitting the soft bed stuns him, but not as much as his utter surprise. How the hell did he—?

He can't finish that thought because Orochimaru is on top of him, then. Instinct has him shoving harshly against the man's chest, but he doesn't even budge. Instead, he knocks Sasuke's arms out of the way like it was _nothing_, then delivers a paralyzing blow to the boy's stomach. Sasuke gasps, the wind knocked out of him, and he can't breathe, and he's dizzy, and his vision is blurry, and Orochimaru is reaching above his head and grabbing something from beneath the blankets.

Only vaguely aware of his surroundings, Sasuke scarcely comprehends when his head is lifted from the mattress and something wraps around his neck. He begins thrashing madly – the man is going to _choke him! _But the weight of Orochimaru's body on his chest and the man's legs pinning down his arms leaves him helpless. The thing is cold against the bare skin of his throat, and it is tight, but not yet choking him. Orochimaru's hands fumble with something, then Sasuke hears a loud _click _and he withdraws them.

The man relaxes, then. He removes his legs from Sasuke's arms and the boy immediately tries to push him away. Surprisingly, Orochimaru does indeed get off him, and stands, staring down at Sasuke and looking utterly content. Sasuke leaps to get off the bed at the same time as he tugs at the thing around his neck. He gets to his feet but notices, just before the chain forcefully told him, what exactly just happened.

His fingertips ghost over the padlock at the back of his neck in disbelief. He follows the metal chain with his eyes, seeing it looped around a rung on the wooden headboard where another padlock held it in place.

Orochimaru says nothing, letting realization crash over the boy. He still has that content smile on his face, not having the decency to hide it in front of the boy he tied to his bed. Sasuke finally casts those beautiful eyes on him again—a cocktail of emotions on his beautiful face; rage, fear, confusion, all blended together perfectly, deliciously.

"Wha—" he starts to say, but Orochimaru speaks first.

"I love you."

Sasuke is silent, but a look of _disgust_ covers his face.

Orochimaru continues. "I realize this is a bit… unconventional. Nevertheless, this is the way things are now, Sasuke-kun. You must accept that."

"Are you out of your _fucking mind_?" Sasuke raises his voice, tugging harshly on the chain for emphasis. "Untie me _now! _What the fuck—"

Orochimaru steps closer to him and Sasuke flinches back, his defensive instincts in an absolute frenzy. "No, Sasuke-kun. As I said, this is the way things will be from now on."

"You will not get away with this," the boy hisses. "I will make you regret this."

x

Orochimaru hates the grocery store at Christmas time. Crowded, noisy—everything he hates about interacting with people crammed into the one place he needs to go for food.

He's picking out the plumpest, ripest tomatoes when his eye catches Mikoto Uchiha to his side. The woman has diminished in the last couple of months, considerably. She's like a wilted flower now, standing there, unsure of why she even left the house anymore.

Orochimaru is the cause of her suffering, yet he can't bring himself to feel sorry for her. After all, Sasuke is his now. Still, he supposes he owes her something in the way of an apology, so he says, "Merry Christmas, Mikoto-san."

That seems to wake her from her daze, and she looks around, as if confused as to where she is. Her gaze falls on him and she says, "Oh, you too, Orochimaru-san." Her eyes are wet with fresh tears.

He should say, "Sorry about your son," but he isn't, so he doesn't. Instead, he leaves her there and makes his way to the checkout with his boy's fresh tomatoes in hand.

On the drive home, he remembers when the police came to his door not long after he took Sasuke in. Luckily he had been sipping tea on his porch like usual (didn't want to alarm the neighbors by suddenly breaking his routine, someone might get suspicious) so they had no reason to knock, and Sasuke never knew they were there.

"Did you happen to see Sasuke return home from school?" One of the officers asked.

"No, officer," Orochimaru replied, "I'm afraid I have no idea either way,"

They left soon after, and Orochimaru knows they did not suspect him. After all, who would ever suspect the _feeble old man?_

x

When he returns home, Sasuke is in one of his moods. He can tell when the boy is close to breaking point, because he throws his walls up as high as they can go, and he's very quiet, glaring at everything. Orochimaru expects the punch as soon as he enters the room, but it still stings his cheek fiercely. Old habits die hard, but he's able to stop himself from attacking the boy back, and instead restrains him by his wrists to the bed.

"Get the _fuck_ off me!" The boy shouts, kicking his legs wildly.

"You're the one who started this, Sasuke-kun. Don't start games if you don't want to finish them." Orochimaru chuckles. He releases the boy's wrists but remains on top of his torso. Sasuke knows better by now than to attack when he no longer has the element of surprise. Orochimaru is grateful he chose such a fast learner. What a smart boy he is.

He trails his hand underneath the fabric of Sasuke's—well, really, _his_ shirt—his old clothes were disposed of months ago. He loves seeing Sasuke in his clothing. Loose-fitting, iron-pressed shirts that always slide down one of his shoulders…

He runs his fingers over the boy's ribs, caressing the little valleys between each one. Unfortunately, his boy is not ticklish. He would have so loved to torture him nearly to tears, then stifle his whining laughter with hot, wet kisses.

Sasuke has his eyes tightly shut, one hand above his head, grasping his chain. That's become his habit, and Orochimaru assumes it returns some feeling of control to the boy. He leans forward and lavishes the boy's neck in kisses, and Sasuke starts squirming, like he's trying to wiggle his way out from underneath Orochimaru's body. The man holds him tight at the hips, and kisses him, again and again and again, loving the feeling of his satin skin, the sight of his flushed face, the scent of his breath, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his resistance.

Orochimaru has begun carrying everything he needs for sex in his pockets at all times, so he is always ready to be with Sasuke whenever he desires. Which is more and more recently, he finds. These days he can't so much as read a book or watch a bit of TV without becoming overrun with desire for this sinfully perfect little boy.

Being inside Sasuke is the best feeling in the world. His whole body trembles from the pleasure coming from his lower body, and he thrusts, wildly and madly, drunk on the sounds of Sasuke's groans—which sound so similar to grunts of pain, but Orochimaru knows they aren't; he's always very thorough when he prepares his boy, and he always starts out slow and lets him adjust. Even though it's already been a couple of months, Sasuke is still so _tight_, and he sucks him in so wantonly, that Orochimaru—who is not inexperienced at all when it comes to sex, in fact, he's quite proficient—finds himself finishing embarrassingly quickly, whereas it takes an arm and a leg to make Sasuke orgasm. Orochimaru truly pities the poor thing.

He collapses on the boy when he's finished, his hair falling in the boy's face, and his face nestled in the boy's neck. He deeply inhales the musky scent of their sweat and sex and contemplates doing it again, because truly, he can't get enough of Sasuke.

x

He takes Sasuke down to the basement from time to time to let the boy release some stress. He considers moving Sasuke down here permanently, but decides against it. With all of this equipment down here, who knows how strong Sasuke could become? He already has to limit the boy's exercise to half an hour a day to prevent him from changing his physique too drastically, and that's just from sit-ups and push-ups. He doesn't need the boy lifting weights and becoming unmanageable. Orochimaru is strong, but he's still in his fifties.

The first time he brought Sasuke down here, the boy was startled by the snake pen which took up an entire wall. He supposes he should have told Sasuke about his python _before_ bringing him down here, but it was too late. Manda was just as surprised at Sasuke as Sasuke was at him. They don't get along much, unfortunately. Sasuke refuses to try feeding him his rabbits. It's really quite adorable, how squeamish he can get.

The first time was also the last time Sasuke openly challenged him to a fight, in a manner of speaking. Orochimaru always locks the basement door behind them and then pockets the key, so there's no need to keep Sasuke on his chain, but the first time they were down here, Sasuke lunged for him. Trying to get the key, no doubt. That was the day Sasuke found out that Orochimaru was once a soldier. A General, to be specific.

"So you really were just playing weak," Sasuke maliciously spat, as Orochimaru countered the boy's punch and flipped him, not worrying overly as the boy landed on his back on the padded mats beneath them. Orochimaru just sent him a charming smile, watching as the boy shakily got to his feet. "It served my purpose, did it not?" he said.

Sasuke just scowled and glared at him.

x

Orochimaru is elated when the last of the snow melts, and he can begin revitalizing his yard again. He starts to work on preparing his vegetable garden, wishing he could start planting tomatoes, but it's too early for them. Instead he plants strawberries and waters his azaleas diligently, bringing Sasuke a bouquet when the first of the flowers bloom. The boy hardly spares it a glance, so Orochimaru puts them in a vase and leaves it on their bedside table so Sasuke would have something to look at when he was thinking of him.

After a long day in the warm Spring sun, Orochimaru decides an afternoon shower before dinner is just what he needs, and he wants Sasuke to join him. He grabs two towels from the linen closet in the hallway outside his room, opens his bedroom door, and is about to greet Sasuke when he notices the bed is… _empty._

Well, not entirely—on top of the blankets lays Sasuke's chain, and Orochimaru rushes over to inspect it, finding one of the chain links is snapped. Damn cheaply made junk, Orochimaru seethes. Damn it, Sasuke!

"Sasuke-kun!" he hollers. He knows the boy is still here. He would have heard the front door—he would have seen him cross the street. Sasuke wouldn't waste a second being stealthy. He has to still be here.

He turns towards the door that leads to the adjoining bathroom, but Sasuke is not in there. The closet next, he decides. He exits the bathroom and is struck on the side of the head by that same vase of flowers from the other day. The shattered glass showers around him, and he stumbles against his dresser, catching a glimpse of Sasuke's wide, panicked eyes before the boy whirls past him towards the door.

It takes Orochimaru a second to gather himself, but then he is dashing after Sasuke, enraged at what the boy had done. How dare he, after all the man had done for him? That ungrateful little… he could not escape. He _would not._

"SASUKE!" The man bellows, lunging to tackle the boy to the ground just before he can reach the door.

He flips the boy onto his back, wrapping his hands around his neck to keep him pinned to the floor. "How dare you?" he growls, hands tightening. "How could you do this to _me_, Sasuke? After I have done nothing but _love_ you!"

"St-stop!" Sasuke chokes, clawing at the man's hands. For a moment, Orochimaru is disgusted with himself. How shameful, a grown man, an _adult_, lashing out at a child like this. Sasuke is just a boy, a young man who needs to be taught, who needs to learn the rules, and how to be respectful. And that's what Orochimaru has to do, it's the right thing, and he's always known that. His boy, his unruly, vulnerable, weak, helpless boy – God, he loves him, but Sasuke is a child, a weak child, who needs to be taught manners and respect. They will be happy, then. Everything will be all right. He can be at peace.

He loosens his hands around Sasuke's throat, but remains pinning him to the floor. He's about to open his mouth to speak when Sasuke suddenly screams,

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

Orochimaru is acting before he can even think, striking the boy hard across the face. He turns him back onto his stomach, and grabs his messy black hair, lifting his head off the floor and slamming it against the hardwood again and again to silence him. He can see speckles of blood dot the wood, but he is too frenzied to care, and rips his tie from around his neck to shove it inside the boy's mouth as a gag, tying it at the back of his head. He can no longer tell if the sounds coming from Sasuke are groans of pain or muffled protests.

He hastily slips the boy's shorts down his legs, pinning him with one hand and undoing his own belt with the other. He ties the belt harshly around the boy's wrists, slamming the boy's head into the floor again when he continues to struggle. The next thing he knows, his own pants are around his knees and he's stroking himself, because he needs to be inside Sasuke, needs the boy to understand what's going on here.

He enters him, fast, with no preparation, grimacing at the cry of pain that resounds from the boy's bleeding mouth.

"You are—_weak,_" he pants, harshly, in between brutal thrusts. "You will never be _strong_ Sasuke-kun – are you listening! You are _weak! _You will never escape here, you will not escape me, you are not strong—" he groans loudly, lewdly, his natural lubrication finally allowing smooth, pleasurable thrusts. "I will teach you, Sasuke, I will teach you the way things are. You are such a _child! _How dare you try to pretend you are strong?"

Orochimaru's attention is caught by pool of blood that now surrounds the boy's head. Hopefully he didn't break the boy's nose, though if he did, it serves him right. He can't pity the boy anymore. He needs to be taught.

He continues to thrust as hard as he can, feeding himself that wonderful feeling, his moans completely drowning out Sasuke's small, quiet sobs of pain.

"Can you not see how weak you are?" he asks, not really listening to himself anymore, caught in the glory of his pre-orgasm. "Can you see how weak you are now? Oh, I love you..." and he climaxes then, harder than ever before in his life, almost shouting with the force of it.

It takes minutes for his body to calm down and his head to clear, and he knows he needs to clean the boy—and the floor—up, when he realizes Sasuke is silent and unmoving.

Gently pushing the boy onto his back, Orochimaru is appalled by the blood-soaked face. The puddle around Sasuke's face is much larger now, and thicker, and Orochimaru feels a spike of dread pierce his stomach. The boy's eyes are closed, but his mouth is open—all bloody, all coated in thick, warm, red liquid.

"Sasuke-kun," he calls, sternly. "Wake up, I need to clean you up. We can have a nice shower, and then I'll take you to the basement while I go buy you a new chain. Okay? Wake up."

But Sasuke does not wake up, not then, not ever.

x

He had reserved a rather large space for the tomato garden, so it's more than enough, Orochimaru decides. He starts in the dead of night, constantly aware of the sound his shovel makes as it pierces the dirt, ever watchful for one of his neighbors spying on him. It takes him nearly three hours to dig the hole deep enough, and then he fetches the body from his house, carrying it gingerly to its new resting place.

His face is devoid of all emotion, and to be honest, inside he isn't much different. He is overcome with an astounding emptiness, as though all purpose was now gone from life. He supposes it truly was, in a way.

Carefully as he can, he drops the body into the hole, catching a glimpse of how his hands and shirt were now _red red red _with blood. It's not as though he had never seen that sight before, but it feels so wrong like this, and he isn't sure why. He takes a moment, sticking his hands in the mound of dirt to cover up the blood.

He looks at the face, and wishes he hadn't. That is not the face he loved. That is not his beautiful weak child. _That _face is mocking, cruel, superior. _I have gone, _it says to him. _You were supposed to be the adult, but I have gone ahead you. I have gone where you, so many times, could not. Where you were not _strong enough _to go._

Orochimaru hates that face, so that is where he drops the first shovelful of dirt. It takes him another two hours to fill the hole and then get it back to looking like a potential garden, and by then, the sun is about to rise. He puts the shovel away and heads inside, going straight to his room to shower and clean himself.

He makes himself a cup of ginseng tea and refuses to look at the large stain in front of his front door as he heads to his swing. He sits, leisurely, the pinnacle of upmost composure, and takes a long, careful sip of his tea, observing his street waking up, listening to the birds chirping all around him.

So, that is that, he thinks.


End file.
